Changes in Latitude
by busymommy
Summary: After a life-altering tragedy, Jasper is unsure of who he is anymore. Will a journal and a new friend help him find his way to a new start? A Going Under for the Third Time prequel donated to Texas Wildfires Compilation
1. October 20th

_**Love and kisses and bewb gropes to my amazing betas, nails 233 and LaMomo. Any errors you may find are mine, because I don't know when to leave well enough alone. Thanks, as always, to my pre-readers: Manda, Heidi, & Willow. Much love to all the wonderful ladies I WC'ed with while writing this, Your support and encouragement were invaluable. **_

_**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight; I simply introduced them to the sun, surf, and sand.**_

_**Please do not reproduce, translate, caress, or fondle (or lick, nibble, or kiss for the girls from the fan group, for whom I have to be specific since they're abusing poor Jasper!) my story inappropriately in any way. Not that I can do a damn thing about it, but it makes me feel like I have a sense of control.**_

_**This is for butterflybetty, who desperately wanted to know how Jasper ended up where he is in Going Under. I hope this sheds a little more light on the subject, sweets. Oh, and don't forget your tissues. **_

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><p><strong>Changes in Latitude: Jasper's Journal<strong>

**A prequel to **

**Going Under for the Third Time**

_Donated to _

_Texas Wildfires_

**Oct. 20—**

I read somewhere that writing things down helps you work through problems in your life. I don't know if that shit's true or not, but I have to do something to keep me grounded. I feel myself drifting further and further away from reality every day. I'm hiding away from a life I no longer know how to live. The days are all running together, with no break in their endless monotony to clue me in to their differences. I had to check a calendar just to know what day it is today.

It's been a week. Seven days since everything I thought was true, everything I thought I had, was destroyed. I moved the rest of the stuff from the house into storage this morning. This dingy hotel room is my home now. I kept the essentials: my clothes, personal things, and Annabelle. Other than that, the rest is sitting in a locked room, while I decide what to do with what's left of my life. Fitting really, that my remains of all I knew are as locked up as I am.

I can't remember the last time I ate, the last time I slept. I can't focus on shit; my mind is running a million directions at once. Every time I try to close my eyes, the memories of the flames engulfing Maria's car terrorize me. My body actually aches from the jarring awakenings caused by the screams ripping from my raspy throat. My eyes hurt so much, are so bloodshot, I've resorted to wearing sunglasses all the time. I look like I've been on a bender for months, but I haven't touched a drink in I can't remember how long. It'd be too easy to give in to that demon, to drown the pain. I won't allow myself that escape; I deserve to feel it, to remember it all, to never forget that she's dead because of me.

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><p><em><strong>This is, obviously, completely written, since it was donated to the Texas Wildfires compilation. There are a total of 17 chapters, and I will post one entry of Jasper's journal a day. I hope this offers a little more insight to the frame of mind Jasper is in at the beginning of Going Under for the Third Time. No, I haven't abandoned my other stories, I've just had a ton going on. <strong>_

_**My first book is scheduled for publication the end of January. Smoky Rooms and Hardwood Floors has been pulled and been converted to a multi-chapter short story, to be included with two other stories by my dear friends, nails233 and butterflybetty. Information can be found on my profile or by PMing me.** **Thank you for all of your love and support. If it weren't for your unwavering faith in my writing, I would have never had the courage to take this step.** _


	2. October 21st

_**Love and kisses and bewb gropes to my amazing team, nails 233, LaMomo_**, Manda, Heidi, & Willow**_. Any errors you may find are mine, because I don't know when to leave well enough alone. Special love to lilsunnyaunt - Thank you for being there from day one, and never giving up on me.  
><strong>_

_**Stephenie Meyer owns all things Twilight; I simply introduced them to the sun, surf, and sand.**_

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><p><strong>October 21—<strong>

I can hear the waves crashing against the sand, the noise filtered by the aged curtains I've drawn against the watery sunlight struggling to break through the growing thunderheads. A tropical storm is tearing through the Gulf, its eye set on Galveston. I wouldn't have even known about it if I hadn't seen the news at the convenience store up the street. I walked down there to get something to eat. I figured I'd better, since none of my shit fits anymore. When I headed down to surf this morning, I noticed my wet suit is too loose, the fabric falling in wrinkles around my wrists and ankles. I don't know why I bother trying to eat. I barely make it to the bathroom before it all comes back up.

Maybe I'll buy a toaster; toast is supposed to be easy.

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><p><em><strong>The timeline of the chapters, while chronological, will not be every day. Just like any other journal, circumstances can sometimes prevent someone from writing every day, especially given the delicate subject matter. I will make sure the date of the entry is at the top of each one.<strong>_

**_Jasper's really checked out of life, hasn't he? _**


	3. October 22nd

_**Love and kisses and bewb gropes to my amazing team, nails 233, LaMomo_**, Manda, Heidi, & Willow**_. Any errors you may find are mine, because I don't know when to leave well enough alone. Special love to lilsunnyaunt - Thank you for being there from day one, and never giving up on me.  
><strong>_

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><p><strong>Oct. 22-<strong>

The storm hit around three this morning. The power's been gone all day, so I'm struggling to write this by a wavering candle flame and the glowing crescent moon left behind once the storm moved on. The manager came around and gave everyone candles, with a warning not to leave them lit if we left. Since the road's flooded, that shit ain't gonna happen anyway. I've paced every inch of my cramped living space. I can tell you everything you never wanted to know about this room. There are forty tiles in the mildewed row behind the sink. There are twenty-two rows of tiles between the tub and the sink. The TV only has five working channels, and, unless I want to rent porn, the only thing on are reports about the weather and storm damage. Thirty-seven hooks are holding up the faded, heavy geometric printed drapes. I've been in purgatory for nine days.

I took Annabelle out of her case today. I can't remember the last time I held her in my hands. The frets felt uncomfortable under my fingers, the chords difficult to remember. I managed to strum out a song, humming along with the music, until I realized what song I'd chose. It had been our song, the one I sang to her the night I asked her to be mine forever.

Since when was forever only a couple years long and full of broken dreams?

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><p><em><strong>SIGH Our poor broken Surfsper. <strong>_


	4. October 23rd

**_The usual suspects made it all readable_**_**; I don't own Jasper, but he owns me.  
><strong>_

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><p><strong>Oct. 23-<strong>

The water was placid today, its surface nearly smooth as glass. The waves were flat. It'd been a waste of time to haul my boards down this morning. I sat on the shore for a couple hours, hoping the conditions might change. While I waited, I watched the people that had come out to enjoy the late Indian summer, collecting the myriad shells that had washed ashore in the storm. A big dude had been on the beach with a couple of other guys, playing football. At one point, the ball flew right at me, narrowly missing hitting me in the head. He ran over to retrieve it, apologizing for almost hitting me. Seeing my boards, he asked about the surf, sitting down to talk, the game forgotten. Despite his size he acted like a big kid, real cheerful with an easy smile. His buddies came over and we bullshitted for awhile, before they took off to grab something to eat. I turned down the offer to join them. I don't want to barf in a public restroom, and other than toast, I haven't braved any other food. They said they might be at the beach tomorrow. Company might be good.

After fielding two phone calls from my mother, begging me to come home, or at least let them know where I am, I turned it off. No one really needs to reach me. There's no one waiting on me to come home, no one who will notice if I never come home again.

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><p><em><strong>Well, at least he talked to the guy on the beach. And if he were mine, I'd notice if he never came home.<br>**_


	5. October 24th

**_Love and _****_thanks to the usual suspects. _**

**_*Checks bedroom* Nope Jasper's still not mine. _**

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><p><strong>Oct 24-<strong>

The surf picked up this morning, giving me a few hours of decent waves. At least it breaks up the hours I spend sitting in this room, starring at the wavering images on the ancient TV. I didn't sleep much again last night. Once the nightmare of my life woke me around three, I moved out to sit on the balcony, chain-smoking until the sun came up and I could hit the beach. Good thing its off-season. Otherwise, I'm sure the manager would be receiving complaints about my regular descents into hell that have me wailing like a banshee in the middle of the night.

The big guy and his friends came back. He's pretty outgoing, nothing like I can remember ever being. His name is Emmett and he's from the East Coast. I guess he's just cruising around, trying to figure out who he wants to be when he grows up. I gotta say, he's a damn good surfer, with mad shortboard skills. I'd always preferred longboards, they're more authentic to me, but like a lot of surfers, I use both, depending on my mood. We talked more while we waited between sets. Emmett's thinking about joining the surf tour; he even suggested I might want to give it a shot. Not a bad idea I guess, if you got nothing better to do.

.

.

I wonder, though, can you ever really run away from your life? Then again, maybe Emmett's running toward his. I'm just stuck, with no path forward or back.

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><p><strong><em>Ahh, as most of you guessed, the big guy on the beach is our Emmett. So yes, there will be a bit more about how they met, from Jasper's point of view. Remember, Emmett's point of view on meeting Jasper is in his outtake that covered his first date with Rosalie.<em> **


	6. October 26th

**_I don't feel well, so you get another chapter- ENJOY!_**

**_The same great bunch of ladies make it readable, any mistakes are because I dont know how to leave well enough alone. _**

**_If Jasper were mine, he certainly wouldn't be sitting brokenhearted in a hotel.  
><em>**

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><p><strong>Oct. 26-<strong>

Spent the morning on the waves. We vacationed here every summer when I was growing up. I feel a kinship to the water that I never shared with anything else. Why is the ocean the only place I can find any peace? The lack of sleep, the terrors, the loss, don't exist when I'm out there. Don't I deserve peace, even if it's just a few minutes a day? If I don't take the little bit I can find, I might as well check out now. I won't take the easy way out; I don't ever deserve to escape what I did.

I went to the cemetery today. Twenty years of a life consigned behind a little metal plaque on a wall. Flowers were tucked into a small vase next to it. Someone else remembers her. I haven't been since the funeral; I'm not even sure who made the arrangements. I supposed it had been her mother, or maybe my father had finally had a change of heart…or a sense of guilt over his animosity while she'd been alive. I traced my fingers over the letters. "Beloved Wife."

She had been, until an hour before it was too late to matter.

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><p><strong><em>A little more about why Jasper has such an affinity for the ocean. <em>**


	7. October 27th

**_All my love to the usual suspects- Thanks for making sure I'm at least readable. Any mistakes are mine, cause yeah, I can't leave well enough alone. _**

**_ The only thing I own in an extensive collection of stuffed Monkeys, Stephenie Meyer own Jasper, but she'll never love him as much as I do.  
><em>**

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><p><strong>Oct. 27-<strong>

Ran into Emmett on the beach again this morning. His friends are leaving soon, but he hasn't decided what he's going to do yet. I told him to do what makes him happy, while he has the freedom to do it. He stared at me for a minute, before nodding. Maybe he gets it.

I graduated from toast to scrambled eggs at the diner around the corner. I didn't really want to go, but Emmett insisted, saying I had to eat, so why not. Since I couldn't come up with a good reason not to, I went. It wasn't bad, but it's a good thing he's a talker, 'cause I still don't have much to say. He told me a little more about himself. He's an orphan. His aunt and uncle have raised him since he was eight. He has a cousin who's a couple years older.

Turns out, we're the same age. I feel old when I'm around him. His life is carefree: he does what he wants, when he wants, and answers to no one. I never had that luxury. I moved from my parents' house right into a relationship with Maria, then into marriage. For the first time, I regret some of the choices I made when I didn't know any better. It's only been 2 weeks, but it seems like I've been lost for an eternity.

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><p><strong><em>Not gonna lie, the Jash00r has MAD love for Emmett after writing this little journal. <em>**


	8. October 28th

**_All my love to my lovely group of bets and prereaders who make this stuff less of an eyesore. Any errors are mine cause I have OCD tendencies. _**

**_Jasper still isn't mine, if he was I'd have a better laptop to write on.  
><em>**

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><p><strong>Oct 28-<strong>

My father found me today. I was walking back up from the beach when he confronted me in front of my room. He wants me to come back to work, go back to school. He acts as if the past two weeks never happened, as if she never existed. The conversation got loud, prompting more than a few doors to open with angry glares. I let him in, but told him, in no uncertain terms, I can't be that person right now; I need time to figure shit out. He stormed out, threatening to cut me off without a cent, but the point's moot. The first installment of the trust fund my grandfather gave me released when Maria and I were married. I have enough to get by on for now. I'll worry about the rest when I have to.

I called my mom, letting her know I'm alive. I resisted her pleas to come home, using the twins as my excuse. I don't want them to see me like this. I know I'm broken; I don't know if I deserve to be fixed. Existing is easier when I don't have to deal with my family's false support. Then again, they saw the truth long before it smacked me in the face.

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><p><strong><em>Hmm so our Jasper is a trust fund baby. Makes you want to question Maria's motives a bit more. <em>**


	9. October 29th

**_All my love to the usual suspects - The make it readable and keep me off the ledge. _**

**_I still don't own Jasper, FML  
><em>**

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><p><strong>Oct. 29-<strong>

Couldn't surf today. The red flags are up all along the beach. Another storm's rolling through. Drove to the diner earlier and ate breakfast. I brought a sandwich back for later if I get hungry - a rare occasion, but it could happen. I'm sitting at the Laundromat now. My wetsuit could probably walk to the beach by itself, and I'll be freeballing soon if I don't get it done. The noise in here is deafening. The music is too loud, and people are letting their kids run around like lunatics. If it were my kid**. . .**

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><p><strong><em>Looks like there are some things he can't bear to think aboout still<em>  
><strong>


	10. Halloween

_**Love, kisses, and bewb gropes to the lovely ladies who make it all fit for public consumption, errors are mine, cause I don't leave shit alone. **_

_**Despite all my wishes to the contrary, Jasper, sadly, is still not mine.** _

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><p><strong>Halloween-<strong>

I've been holed up in my room all night. It hurts too much to be outside, to see the sights this holiday creates. The streets are full of kids, of families. It could have been me, once, if she hadn't lied. Just thinking about it makes my chest hurt, I can't catch my breath. Is this a panic attack?

They gave me sleeping pills at the hospital after the accident. I've only taken them once, when I couldn't last another minute without dreamless unconsciousness they offer. While they guaranteed the nightmares didn't bother me, I still felt like ass the next morning. If I have to feel like shit, I'd rather do it without the wonders of modern pharmaceuticals. Why use drugs, when life has succeeded all on its own to rip me to pieces?

The paramedics said I tried to reach the car, taking a swing at one of the officers who restrained me. I don't remember any of it, after the flames. Nothing, until I woke up in the hospital, my clothes reeking of smoke and burnt rubber. Mom wouldn't look at me when I demanded to know what happened, even screaming at her when she turned away. A nurse rushed in the room and my memory is blank again after that. I'd been sedated, then sent home, once they determined my lungs were clear. That's it; its all that has any kind of clarity. Everything else, until I decided to leave my parents' house and come here, is like looking at old movies – jerky, disjointed, the scenes overlapping with little coherency.

.

.

.

I came here, looking for…I don't even know, now. I'm not sure I knew then.

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><p><strong><em>Not gonna lie, your intrepid writer may have cried more than once putting Jasper's tale together.<em> **


	11. November 1st

**_So, FF was fail yesterday, and I only heard from a couple people on the journal entry. Or at least, I'm hoping it was because tech error, and not because I scared everyone off. *wipes nervous sweat from brow*_**

**_The usual group of fantabulous ladies are responsible for making it look good, without them, I would be lost._**

**_SM owns that character names, but the idea for a broken surfer starting over- all mine.  
><em>**

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><p><strong>Nov. 1-<strong>

Still no surfing. The walls in this room are starting to close in on me. I walked the strip of shops in front of the beach earlier, looking for a distraction, but found none. I even found someplace different to eat, something to break the monotony of this rut I'm in. Instead of a quiet meal, I ended up fending off a waitress hell bent on picking me up, despite the wedding ring I have yet to remove.

Should I take it off? It doesn't mean anything anyway, right? It's purely symbolic, representing two lives irrevocably joined together in love. She's gone now, so it doesn't matter anymore. Besides, after all the lies, I don't know if I could still love her, even if she wasn't.

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><p><strong><em>Ahh the ring. Just a symbol, or something more? <em>**


	12. November 2nd

**_As always, I couldn't do this without my fab beta/prereader team. These ladies rock my shit and I heart them HARD._**

**_Much to my dismay, SM still own Twilight and Jasper, but Jasper holds my heart.  
><em>**

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><p><strong>Nov. 2—<strong>

The beach is cleared, the red flags gone, letting me spend the morning on the waves. Emmett reappeared today, too. His friends left town on Halloween. When I asked why he stayed, he muttered something about another friend needing some help. I can't remember him telling me about any friends in the area. I guess I missed him mentioning it when we talked before.

He wants me to go bar hopping with him; he says I spend too much time alone. Although I know all about him, he knows very little about me: my age and name, and that I love to surf. I don't know how to tell him I've never done all the stuff he takes for granted. Hanging out with the guys, staying up late, and getting hammered - it's all foreign territory for me. Shortly after I turned twenty-one, Maria and I were married, supposedly with a baby on the way. I was too busy being responsible; leaving me no time to act like other guys my age. The idea holds a certain allure, but I made him no promises. I'm barely keeping it together sober. Who knows what'll happen if I get shit-faced.

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><p><strong><em>I have the distinct feeling a shitfaced Surfsper would NOT be a good thing right now. But oh what I wouldn't give to get him drunk and take advantage of him. <em>**


	13. November 4th

**_Thanks, always, goes to the amazing betas and prereaders who support my darlin Surfsper. Listing them all would be longer than the chapter! _**

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><p><strong>Nov. 4-<strong>

It's ten in the morning, my head feels like the Seven Dwarves have moved their jewel mines into it, my mouth tastes like old sweat socks, and opening my eyes is even more of a chore than normal. Given all of that, I almost laughed last night. In fact, I think I may have even smiled once or twice. Emmett McCarty is one of the funniest fuckers I've ever met. He picked me up early, insisting we needed a substantial dinner in order to counteract the large quantities of alcohol he planned to drink. He wasn't kidding.

Seeing him in action is something behold. He's outgoing, casual with everyone. Watching him at the bar, I realized something about him – Emmett's never met a stranger. Everyone's a friend he hasn't met yet, and his easy nature attracts people to him like bees to honey. Sitting near him in the crowded bar, I watched him approach women of all ages, sizes, and ethnicities. Most of them received a hug, a few - a kiss, but all of them received his attention. Emmett's a connoisseur of life.

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><p><em><strong>Well damn, we did miss out on a drunk Surfsper- But Im thinking drunk Emmett would be awesome!<strong>_


	14. November 6th

_**The usual cast of characters receive my eternal gratitude for making me readable. **_

_**I had to bail on a few days' of reviews, but any received yesterday have been replied to. Be assured, I read and cherished every one of them. **_

_**Finally, SM own Jasper, but Surfsper is all the creation of an angsty corner of my twisted mind. **_

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><p><strong>Nov. 6-<strong>

I forgot to forward the mail. The landlord called to tell me he has a huge pile he needs me to come get. I told him I'd be over tomorrow. Most of it's junk, I'm sure. I pay my bills online; the statements never came to the house. If it weren't for the fact that there might be something important, I'd tell him to chuck the lot. I should go to the post office, too. I guess I'll forward it all to my parents. I still don't know what I'm doing with my life. I need to find some direction, make some plans, DO SOMETHING.

.

.

.

.

I took off my ring.

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><p><strong><em>Well, that would constitute DOING SOMETHING in my book.<em> **


	15. November 7th

**_We're almost to the end, darlins. Only 2 more excerpts after this one. As always, my lovely beta/prereader team made it fit to read. _**

**_SM yadda yadda yadda, Me everything else. _**

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><p><strong>Nov. 7-<strong>

I found a business card from the police department nestled in an envelope with a copy of the accident report. I didn't need to read it; the details still haunt the few hours of sleep I manage to steal. I doubt there's anything more the officers can tell me at this point.

A pile of magazines and catalogues: _Cosmopolitan, Vogue, Vanity Fair, People, Pottery Barn, Restoration Hardware_. She spent too much time wishing for what she thought she deserved, never appreciating what we had.

A 2 week old letter from the coroner's office sat at the bottom of the pile. The autopsy report is complete, has been complete. Do I care? Her parting words still surface to haunt me, rearing up when I'm too tired, too worn down, to push them back.

.

_You'll never get away. _

_.  
><em>

Did she mean what I think she did? Do I need the truth?

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><p><strong><em>Does he need to know it all, or are some things better left alone?<em>**

**_Reviews get a peek at Chapter 20 of GU, its almost ready to go to beta.  
><em>**


	16. November 8th

**_SIGH only one more chapter left. _**

**_Love and kisses to all the usual suspects, as well as all the lovelies who have faithfully read and reviewed this little look into Jasper's mind. _**

**_SM still owns Twilight, but Surfsper owns my heart and has since the first time he woke up in a hotel in Virginia Beach back in August of 2010._ **

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><p><strong>Nov. 8—<strong>

Emmett wants to hang out tomorrow. Surfing in the morning, maybe some sightseeing in the afternoon. I know what he's doing, but it's not worth fighting him. I enjoy his company, I can't remember ever having a friend I felt this comfortable with. Besides, maybe he's right. I do need to get out more, if I'm gonna bother trying to get on with living. Maybe I can find there's something more to life than the four walls I live in.

Called for a copy of the report today. They're sending it over by courier tomorrow.

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><p><strong><em>If you haven't read GU, the last entry of this little journal has a bunch of spoilers in it, so you may want to scurry over to GU and catch up - at least through Chapter 12 and Emmett's outtake. If you haven't read it in a while, you may want to make sure you refresh your memory before tomorrow - especially the two aforementioned sections.<em> _I would love to break 100 reviews before I post tomorrow, so if you are feeling some love for Surfsper, please share it._  
><strong>


	17. Thanksgiving Day

_**Here it is - the last entry **_

_**Thanks so much to everyone who has read and reviewed. Special love and eternal gratitude go out to my betas/prereaders - they make me readable and keep me off the ledge when I'm afraid I pushed things too far. **_

**_Stephenie Meyer owns the names of her characters, but this storyline and characterizations are all mine._ **

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><p><strong>Thanksgiving-<strong>

It's warm in Coronado this time of year, a balmy seventy-six degrees. I didn't expect the unseasonable weather. If this is a portend of things to come, I can understand why friends who have moved to the West Coast say they forget to Christmas shop. It's got to be damn hard to get in the mood for a holiday that revolves around cold and snow, if you're sitting in an air-conditioned room, next to a decorated palm tree, wearing board shorts.

We spent the morning in the ocean. It's still the only place I can find peace. I may have left Galveston, but the things that troubled me there, came with me to California. I don't remember much of what happened the day the courier dropped off the packet from the coroner's office. It's probably a good thing, given the condition I woke up in the next morning.

Reading over the papers, the pain became so intense, I shut down, my mind entering a fugue state, while my body ran on pure adrenaline and its subconscious reactions to the information I received.

By some unspoken agreement, Emmett and I don't talk about what happened in Galveston. I do know, though, Emmett probably saved me from myself that day. I drank until I couldn't see straight, then I drank more. A stupor and the resultant hangover would never hurt as much as the bleak reality of my life does. Emmett managed to get me back to my room so I could sleep it off.

At some point, I woke up screaming; the remembered sights, sounds and smells of the accident pulling me out of my alcohol-induced sleep. My hand throbbed, the skin bruised, my knuckles busted open. The wounds matched the large hole I'd apparently punched in the wall. My left hip itched where a fresh tattoo had been etched into the skin, an eternal reminder of my reality.

_I'm lost… _

I began packing, my mind made up. Emmett had mentioned following the surf tour, competing our way around the country. There's nothing left for me in Galveston, no reason to stay. Emmett knows the tour schedule. There aren't any more competitions until Spring, so he brought me back here, to a small cottage on the California coast that his parents left him. He's turning out to be a true friend, even if he's the only one I've got. He's never asked me about my life before we met; never questioned me about what pushed me over the edge. He's just accepted me from when he found me on the beach, and for that I'll always be grateful. His friendship is the one thing I'm the most thankful for Thanksgiving.

Before we left Texas, I returned to the beach one last time. I paced the shoreline, my mind and heart at war. Then, reaching into the pocket of my hoodie, I pulled out my wedding ring. After turning it over and over in my hand, I drew back my arm and threw it as far as I could.

I'd hoped, by getting rid of the one symbol left of our life together, I could erase Maria's memory. I should have known better. Even in her death, Maria has trapped me, using my own guilt against me.

.

.

.

She's right.

.

.

.

I'll never be free.

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><p><strong><em>Yeah, I know- not exactly warm and fuzzy, but I never promised it would be. Jasper's happy ending will come in Going Under, I do promise that. <em>_A new chapter of GU is with the betas now- I will post it just as soon as I get it back, and I do promise that it is also happy_****_. Thanks again for all your love and support._**


	18. Soul Surfer

**Summary: **Jasper left Texas to run from his past. Months later, preparing for his first surf tournament, can he dig deep enough inside himself to restore his soul?

_**This happens approximately six months after Jasper leaves Galveston wit h Emmett in Changes in Latitude. It just seemed like tacking it on the end here made the most sense.**_

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><p><em><strong>Soul Surfer<strong>_

~SS~SS~SS~SS~SS~

Spluttering, I staggered to my feet, spitting out the mouthful of saltwater I'd swallowed when the pipe collapsed on top of me. Thankful for my leash, I dragged my board closer, then waited on the shore for Emmett to ride in. Frustrated, I planted my board, before raking my hand through my hair. I'd been surfing for almost as long as I'd been able to walk. Why the hell couldn't I beat these fucking waves?

I spotted Emmett when he popped to his feet. Easily the biggest guy on a board, he wasn't hard to miss. Not for the first time, I admired the clean lines he cut through the water, envying the ease with which he took control of the wave. Riding the crest, he pulled several high turns off the top of the wave, before turning out a couple feet from the shore. His booming voice carried over the waves when he noticed me standing in the eddying currents at the edge of the ocean.

"C'mon Jas! Don't tell me your pussing out already? Dude, get your ass back out here." His wide affable grin toned down the sting in his words.

"Yeah, fuck you, McCarty! I've swallowed enough salt water for one day."

Jogging through the waves, he joined me on the shore. "What's up, dude? You're doing great."

"Great?' I snorted. "I'm pretty sure three wipeouts on three fucking successive waves is far from great. This is a bad idea. There's _no way_ in hell I can compete on a national level. I'm just a nobody surfer from Galveston. These guys have done the big shit like Australia and Hawaii. The ripples in the Gulf of Mexico can't begin to compare to that."

"You don't give yourself enough credit." He bumped his elbow into my shoulder. "Stick with it, bro, you can totally handle this."

Shaking my head, I disagreed. "I don't know, man. Maybe I'm not cut out to do this, and I don't want to drag you down, too. I'll just head back to the house; grab a bite to eat or something."

"No way. I told you if you came with me, I'd be there for you one hundred percent. Well, you're here and you're stuck with me now."

He paused, the look on his face clear that the gear in his head were turning. The guy was a hell of a lot smarter than people gave him credit for. Shortly after arriving with Emmett in Coronado, I realized most of his friends treated him like he was an idiot. While he might pull the occasional boneheaded move, overall his biggest flaw was the fact that he had a heart of gold. He'd do anything for a friend; the guys he hung with knew it and took full advantage of it.

Emmett McCarty had money. A lot of money. Both his parents had died when he was just a kid. They'd both been professionals with solid six figure incomes, plenty of insurance, and a couple of houses – including the one we were staying in. His aunt and uncle had invested his inheritance wisely, setting up several trust funds that ensured Emmett would never have to work a day in his life if he didn't want to. Thus far, he'd opted to indulge himself, bouncing around the country, not really settling into anything.

At times I felt like I'd become Emmett's pet project: Operation Save Jasper. He hadn't realized: it's too late. You can't save someone from themself. I don't regret making the decision to leave Galveston, though. I needed to find out who I am. I've been a son, a brother, a boyfriend, a husband. My whole life had been spent trying to be who everyone else wanted or thought I should be. Was surfing just one more part of that? Was I considering the tournament for all the wrong reasons? Emmett insisted I had the talent, but did I enter just to make him happy? My inner musings were interrupted when Emmett jabbed me in the arm.

"I've got an idea." I rolled my eyes. That line was how I'd ended up in Coronado to begin with. "Stuff it, Whitlock. Go grab something to eat and I'll meet you there in a little bit. I need to check on a few things."

Starving and not willing to argue with him, I grabbed my gear and trudged back up the beach to the cottage where we were staying. I slipped my boards in the slats under the deck, before turning on the outdoor shower. Stripping out of my board shorts and skin, I hung them over the top of the surround, then moved under the steaming spray. I stood under the pulsing water, letting it beat down on my neck and back, hoping it would help with the tension that knotted my muscles. Bracing my hands on the roughhewn wood wall, I let my head drop forward, my hair falling in my eyes. I hadn't cut it in months; it had grown several inches and I couldn't be fucked to trim it up. Watching the water dripping off the drenched strands, I willed myself to relax. I could do this, I knew I could; I just needed to settle the fuck down and get my head in the right damn place. _Yeah, 'cause I've done such a good damn job of that so far. _I shook my head to clear out the errant thoughts, jumping when a fist pounded on the wall of the shower enclosure.

"Jas, dude, hurry the fuck up!" Emmett's voice boomed, overpowering the early morning stillness.

"Yeah, yeah. Give me five minutes."

"Don't forget a towel, too. That bimbo Tony brought home is wandering around inside," he warned, before slapping the door again and walking away.

Grumbling to myself, I rushed through the rest of my shower. Opening the door, I checked to make sure no one was around then stepped out to pull a towel out of the cabinet next to the enclosure. I secured it around my waist, then grabbed my gear and headed inside. Making a beeline to my room, I shut and locked the door. Emmett's friends weren't real damn discreet in their selection of fuck buddies and I'd already, on more than one occasion, woken up to one of their skanks crawling into my bed. Definitely not a road I wanted to go down, most especially not with those chicks.

Dragging on dry board shorts and a hoodie, I padded out to the kitchen to scrounge something to eat. I'd taken to buying groceries, since Emmett wouldn't let me give him anything for staying with him, even though I had more than enough money to help. Out of some misplaced sense of obligation, or guilt, my parents continued to drop a chunk of cash in my account every month, using my direct deposit information from when I'd worked for my father. I used only what I absolutely needed, though, and I planned to keep it that way. If I could make it through the preliminaries and get on the tour, I hoped I could pull in enough to live on.

I rummaged behind the dozens of beer bottles to find the eggs I knew were in the refrigerator. Grabbing the carton, a pack of ham, and some cheese, I set it next to the stove, then dug out a frying pan. I rarely had to worry about not finding something to eat since I'd started buying groceries. If it couldn't go in the microwave or it required any kind of prep, the other yahoos living at Emmett's couldn't be bothered to touch it.

Setting my iPod to shuffle, I stuck in my earbuds and put it back in my pocket. I chopped, shredded, and mixed everything I needed, then built myself a decent omelet. Turning to drop some bread in the toaster, I saw Emmett walking through from the living room. With a sigh, I prepped the stuff for a second omelet, dropping it all in the pan when the first finished. Without a word, I handed the plate to Emmett and gestured toward the toaster. Out of the corner of my eye I saw him butter the two pieces then drop two more in. Pulling out an earbud so I could hear, I thanked him.

"No problem, bro. You didn't have to cook for me, but I appreciate it. McDonalds sucks compared to this," he replied, shoving a forkful of eggs in his mouth.

"I can't cook a lot, but I can manage a few basics. Besides, you gave me a place to crash; I owe you." I waved the spatula toward the hallway. "Those guys are on their own, though."

"Nah, it's cool. They can manage; we did before you got here. Can you be ready to go in about thirty minutes? I got something I want to show you." He buttered my toast while he talked; dropping it onto my plate next to the omelet I'd just flipped out of the pan.

"Yeah, I can do that. Where are we going?"

"You'll see when we get there. Make sure you grab your boards and gear and put them in the Jeep." He stuffed the last bite of toast in his mouth, then loaded the plate in the dishwasher. "Thanks again, Jas. I'll see you out front in a few."

I nodded and put my earbud back in, before picking up my fork. Leaning my ass against the counter, I ate standing up. When I finished, I cleaned up my mess, then headed back to my room to grab a clean skin and slide on a pair of Airwalks. I passed Tony's one-nighter in the hall, clad only in a pair of boxers and a see through wife-beater, and I inwardly cringed at the sight. While I didn't have an issue with tats or piercings, the chick was downright scary. Her ink was bad, obviously done by some jerk who thought just because he could afford a machine he should call himself an artist. Her face was a mess of metal, with a few implants dotting her skin, too. Overall, I found all of it a turn-off. Then again, little appealed to me anymore, not even my right hand.

I locked my door when I left, dropping the key in my bag along with my other shit. Stepping out the sliding doors on the back of the house, I dragged both my boards out from under the deck and carried them out front to Emmett's jeep. I dumped my stuff in the back, then went back inside. Finding a small cooler, I threw in a few bottles of water and some fruit. I'd been on a couple of excursions with Emmett already; I knew enough to be prepared in case we ended up someplace I couldn't get a snack of some sort. Picking it up, I headed back outside and stowed it behind the passenger's seat. Emmett walked out right after, asking if I was ready to go. Nodding, I pulled myself up in the passenger's seat, wondering what the hell he had planned.

Pulling out on the beach road, he started driving north. Taking a few side turns, he veered off into a more secluded area, the older, weathered houses set further apart, separated by tracts of trees and undergrowth. Reaching a dead-end, he put the jeep in park, unlocked a wire fence, then drove off road, following a barely visibly path that wound ever closer to the ocean. The tree line broke suddenly, revealing a pristine stretch of beach surrounded by untamed trees and foliage. An extra slice of paradise in a place many people already considered near-perfect.

Awestruck, I stared wide-eyed at the surf pounding the glistening sand. The sun reflected off the silica, making it glitter and dance against the dark blue water. There wasn't another soul in sight; the beach devoid of any signs of having been touched by mankind. Reaching up, I grabbed the rollbar and pulled myself out of the jeep. I walked to where the waving grasses gave way to the sand, pausing to watch the sets rolling in. A sound behind me drew my attention back to Emmett leaning against the front bumper.

"Dude, this – this is fucking amazing!" I shook my head in wonder. "We can surf here?"

"Sure can." He nodded, punctuating his words. "It's private, belongs to a guy that my dad had been friends with." A flicker of sadness glossed his eyes, before he shook it off. "I thought it might help if you had someplace less crowded than the main beach."

I looked back at the rolling waves. "I don't know what to say, Em."

"Don't say anything; grab your boards." His muffled words carried out from where he rifled around in the backseat.

Unwilling to look away, I backpedaled to the jeep to grab my stuff, then followed Emmett out to the shoreline. I dropped my gear a few feet back from the tideline and kicked off my shoes, before walking down into the surf. The frothy brine swirled around my ankles, the water still cold from the late winter chill. Once I reached hip deep water, I threw my hands up and dove into an oncoming wave. Surfacing on the other side, I shook my head, droplets of water spraying around me to create rippling circles. I turned back to face the shore, surprised to see Emmett just sitting on the sand next to my stuff. His knees were bent, elbows resting on top and his hands hanging down, while he stared off at the horizon.

Swimming back in, I staggered up the sand, hitching up my board shorts when they slipped off my hips. Since hitting Coronado, I'd been surfing almost every day and averaged a five mile run every morning. While I'd gained back most of the weight I'd lost in the weeks after the accident, I knew the built up muscle tone accounted for it. Most of my pants still didn't fit for shit, but my T-shirts had all become tighter across my chest and arms. I'd seen the appreciative looks when I went out anywhere, but I never let it go any further. Once bitten, twice shy didn't begin to cover it. Women, dating, relationships – all roads I had no intention of travelling. I'd never give anyone that kind of power to hurt me ever again.

I dropped down next to Emmett, bumping him with my shoulder. "You going in? You didn't grab your boards."

"Nah, not right now." His nose crinkled, his eyes hidden behind his shades while he squinted into the sun. "This is for you, bro." He dangled a keychain in front of me. "I'll draw out the directions for you later at the house so you can come back whenever you want. You got your phone?"

"Yeah, it's in my bag." I watched while he pushed himself to his feet and brushed the sand off his hands. "Wait, where are you going?"

"Call me when you're ready for me to come get you. No one's going to bother you here, Jas." He paused, adjusting his sunglasses before he continued, "Look, I haven't known you long, bro, but I know this much –," he gestured toward the water, "this is where you're gonna find your peace. So, go find it. Remember why you surf, not how you surf."

I held up my hand to give him a high five before he left, but he surprised me by grabbing it and hauling me to my feet. Resting his hand on my shoulder, he stared down at me.

"Dude, I've never pushed you about whatever the hell happened in Texas that has you running with your tail between your legs. I never will; I promised you that. But," he jabbed a finger into my chest, "you need to at least remember who you are. Now, I'll see you in a few hours, then we're hitting Clancy's, and you're buying."

"Fair enough," I replied. Emmett nodded and started walking away until I yelled after him, "Hey, and Em?" He looked back over his shoulder. "Thanks, man." He waved me off, looking pointedly between me, my boards, and the surf, then took off jogging back to the jeep. I watched him pull out of sight, still not knowing why fate decided to drop him into my life, but damn grateful it had happened.

~SS~SS~SS~SS~SS~

Every morning, I headed out to the beach, my cooler packed with food and my coffee in hand. I spent the quiet minutes before sunrise sitting on the shore, my feet buried in the cold, damp sand, while I watched the sun make its slow ascent over the horizon. My dark hoodie had faded to a washed out bluish-grey, but it still kept me warm against the cool breezes that blew in from off the water. With only the waves and the cawing gulls to break the noise, I willed myself to be still and focus.

It'd been almost a month since the first time Emmett had driven me out to that solitary strip of beach. In that time, I'd missed the sunrise once, and then only because a storm had blown in, dropping a deluge on the coast. I'd ended up more restless and unsettled than usual that day. Like Emmett promised, though, no one bothered me, giving me the freedom to fail or succeed without an audience. Sipping from the insulated mug in my hand, I reflected on the last few weeks.

While I'd finally mastered the waves and was able to complete successive runs under all types of surf conditions with competence, I still hadn't figured out how to center my thoughts and emotions. The turmoil caused me to second guess my decisions, destroying the fluidity I'd had in the past. I couldn't figure out how to shut my brain off long enough to _feel_ what the waves were telling me. With a sigh, I planted my cup in the sand next to my stuff, before standing and unzipping my hoodie. I let it fall onto my bag, then pulled on a skin, knowing I'd be stripping it off once the sun had fully risen. Settled, I grabbed my longboard and hit the waves again.

Duck diving under the first swell, I paddled out past the breakers to calmer waters. Pushing myself upright, I straddled my board and closed my eyes, inhaling deep breaths of the salty air. Releasing the steel grip I'd had on the board, I let my fingers trail in the water to sense the shifts in the current. The rolling swells lifted the board, rocking it in an easy rhythm that I tried to surrender myself to. Forcing myself to take slow even breaths, I fought to clear my mind of everything but the sun, the water, and my board. An unusual shift in the current followed by a light splash had me opening my eyes to see what had caused it.

A pod of dolphins, six in all, were frolicking about a hundred feet away from where I sat. I watched them while they breached the water, cavorting around each other like children on a playground. The solitude of the small beachfront seemed to resonate with their conversation, the chirps and chatters carrying over the waves. I enjoyed their antics, amused by the little show they unknowingly performed for me. It wasn't until one of the others broke away from the pod to circle back that I noticed a seventh dolphin that had lagged behind the others. Intrigued, I watched while each member of the pod took a turn back, nudging the lagging one a little closer to the rest of the pod on each pass. When the animal would start to fall back again, they others systematically worked to herd him back into the group. _Just like Emmett, _I thought. _He refuses to leave me behind, too._

I shook my head at the revelation. In ways that none of my lifelong friends had done, Emmett had been there for me. Without question, he'd picked me up when I had sunk so low I couldn't go on; he'd forced me to take another step, to make it through one more day. When he realized I needed to get away, he gave me someplace to run. In every definition of the word, Emmett wasn't just my friend, he'd become my family.

Blankly staring off into the distance, I was jarred from my thoughts by the feel of something nudging my ankle. Dashing the tears I hadn't realized were spilling from my eyes, I nervously peered into the navy blue depths under my board. Surfing alone was a boneheaded move, any surfer knew it. Hell, it's one of the first things I'd ever learned. The potential for an accident or a shark attack always loomed, no matter how careful someone was, but I'd desperately needed the privacy. Emmett recognized my need and accommodated it, with one exception. I had to check in every few hours. He swore if he didn't hear from me, he'd be at the beach faster than I'd be able to blink. If something did happen, I wondered if I'd be able to make it to the beach to call for help.

Cautiously, trying not to move my feet and attract any unwanted attention, I leaned over my board for a clearer look. Another nudge against my foot was followed by a dorsal fin surfacing a half yard or so away. It suddenly disappeared, only to be replaced by the flick of a tail. _One of the dolphins._ Casting my eyes toward the pod, still just a few hundred feet away, I tried to count how many were there. The sight of my nudger slicing through the water caught my eye, pulling my focus toward the approaching animal. I watched it slide under my foot, noticing the long scars that raked across its back. When it rolled under my board, I realized why it moved slower than the others. Its left flipper had been badly damaged, a huge chunk missing from the base, while the rest had several healed slashes across it.

The animal surfaced in front of me, the water exploding from the force of its jump, its body forming a clean arc before it re-entered. Even broken, it was still beautiful, still graceful. Despite all that life had dealt it, the dolphin still tried. Questioning my sanity, but knowing a shark wouldn't be anywhere near the area if dolphins were around, I unfastened my leash and slid into the water, my arm wrapped across my board. I extended my arm, allowing my other hand to free float on the rippling swells.

And I waited.

The quiet reflection that dominated my life served me well. My patience was eventually rewarded by the feel of slippery skin sliding against my fingers. The dolphin surfaced again a few feet away, then bobbed on the waves, almost appearing to be watching me. Deep, thoughtful eyes stared back at me, the hidden strength whispering to my soul. _Fight to survive; you can do it._

In the blink of an eye, it was gone, the cleaving dorsal fin that raced away the only real clue that I'd seen what I thought I had. Intently, I watched the pod move away, wondering if, after all that had happened, I'd finally lost my mind. A plaintive whistle filled the air, followed by my nudger breaking the surface one last time. It disappeared into an approaching set, one of the best I'd seen since I'd started visiting the beach. Quickly pulling myself back onto my board, I refastened my leash. Letting the first wave pass, I took off paddling in time to catch the second one. The lift of the wave underneath the board signaled for me to stand. Popping into my stance, I let go of everything that had haunted my mind, focusing instead on the memory of the unblinking black eye. By the time I rode the wave to completion, I knew I'd rediscovered what had been missing. For the first time since the accident, I wanted to live.

Stepping off the board in the shallows, I reached down to grab it when I heard the sound of applause ringing out across the beach. I shoved my hair out of my eyes and looked up to see Emmett hovering a few feet away.

"Fucking beautiful, bro!"

His booming voice carried to me on the wind, reinforcing the feeling of satisfaction that had settled around my heart. I'd once again found acceptance on the water, the only place I'd ever felt whole.

~SS~SS~SS~SS~SS~

* * *

><p><strong><em>Songlist:<br>_**

**_Violin by Amos Lee _**

**_Fall to Pieces by Velvet Revolver  
><em>**

**_Broken by Lifehouse  
><em>**

**_It Will Rain by Bruno Mars  
><em>**

**_Remember by Five Finger Death Punch  
><em>**

**_November Rain by Guns N' Roses  
><em>**

**_Wish You Were Here by Pink Floyd  
><em>**

**_Exit Wounds, Nothing, & Long Gone and Moved on by The Script  
><em>**

**_Thank you so much to everyone who is patiently continuing Surfsper's journey with him. I have been incredibly busy working on a new original short story, due to release on June 19th, so I have been an absolute fail on updates. Yet again, though, you, my faithful readers have shown how much you love him by once again nominating him for best Jasper in the Wordsmith Awards. I'm so incredibly humbled and touched. More of current time Surfsper and Bella is on the horizon, so please keep your eyes peeled. I promise, it will be worth the wait. _**


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